


Mistletoe

by Papillon87



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: A very tiny bit of angst, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, M/M, Making out under the mistletoe - that pretty much sums it up, More Fluff, Office AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillon87/pseuds/Papillon87
Summary: ’I never said it was a girl.’ Bin’s voice is calm, so calm it almost rings unreal. ‘It’s not a girl I want to kiss tonight.’‘Oh.’Dongmin pauses mid-stride and spins around. From behind the curtain of snowflakes dancing between them, Bin is watching him, eyes wide open.‘I want to kiss you.’
Relationships: Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo/Moon Bin
Comments: 26
Kudos: 164





	Mistletoe

The hour is late.

As every year, the office Christmas party is nearing the point when majority of people present will go from pleasantly tipsy to plastered within the space of the next half an hour or so.

The weak and feeble have left already - a good hour ago, maybe - all of the firm partners being amongst the first ones to depart, giving the plebs the green light for unsupervised shenanigans.

Tables and seating plans being abandoned, most of the women have gathered on the dance floor, which looks like there isn’t enough space for thirty people, let alone for the considerably more sizeable crowd that is swaying their way through an endless list of predictable Christmas songs. The top hits from the charts that the DJ is blasting in between don’t help - they make Dongmin want to go home, bring his noise-cancelling headphones and dance to silence.

No headphones readily available, he is left to sip at his beer and listen to the crowd belting out the words to ‘Last Christmas.’

Next to him, Myungjun is singing, the apples of his cheeks tinted pink, eyes glistening with festive spirit and copious amount of alcohol.

‘Min!’ he screams at him over the roaring of the crowd, despite being a mere foot apart. ‘Why are you not singing? It’s a classic! Don’t you like George Michael?

Dongmin shrugs, eyes sliding across the dance floor. ‘It’s Wham, actually – and I have nothing against George Michael. I just don’t feel like singing right now.’

‘Yeah. You’re too busy staring at Bin from Marketing. Close you mouth, please, you’re too obvious!’

‘Shh!’ Dongmin hisses and glances furtively in Bin’s direction. ‘Shut up! What if he heard…’

‘He is not going to hear anything,’ Myungjun scoffs dismissively and pours himself another glass of wine from an abandoned bottle, left on an empty table behind them. All occupants are currently on the dance floor and Dongmin reasons he could let this slide, even if Myungjun has no right to be nicking someone else’s booze. The open bar closed an hour ago - company credit cards that were paying for several rounds for all Whitelands staff having departed with the partners - and from then on it was all fending for themselves.

Myungjun points to the dance floor where Bin is surrounded by almost all of his female colleagues from the Marketing department, vying for his attention.

‘Bin is too busy to notice all the saliva dribbling down your chin,’ Myungjun takes a sip of the scavenged Shiraz and arches his eyebrows in appreciation, ‘but you should wipe your mouth and focus on another target. Drool doesn’t become you, darling.’

‘I’m not drooling!’

By now, Dongmin’s face is rivalling the shrill red of the Santa outfit Jaewon, the head of the IT support, is proudly wearing tonight.

‘Invisible drool is also drool, darling, so stop fawning over Bin and find someone else to drag under the mistletoe tonight,’ Minhyuk giggles, his sing-song voice still somehow managing to carry over a ghastly rendition of Mariah Carey’s ‘All I want for Christmas’ that several members of the Accounting department are belting out right next to them.

Dongmin groans. He knows that going to the Christmas party wasn’t his brightest idea but, as Myungjun explained it to him succinctly some weeks previously, ‘You work for an American company, your boss is American, your boss’ boss is American, and Americans like Christmas, so consider it as the annual team-building exercise – a compulsory one.’

After a two-hour long dinner, chatting to Michael, his line manager, over his turkey and Dongmin’s vegetarian beef Wellington – Dongmin loves his meat but has decided to go for something different this time, simply out of spite - he doesn’t feel too bad about being there. The discussion with his boss, a pleasant older gentleman, for whom accounting was beginning and end of everything, has been a fruitful exchange of ideas, rather stimulating - even funny, when Mr Hunt decided to share anecdotes about his time as an junior accountant somewhere on the West Coast.

Now, however, with only Myungjun to keep him company, Dongmin is frantically mulling over what would be the best excuse to fire at his rather drunk and very enthusiastically singing best friend to allow him to follow the example of the elderly and infirm and go home.

‘Will you be quiet?’

‘This is a Christmas partyyyyy – the point is not to be quiet!’

‘Ok,’ Dongmin decides to ignore the decibels assaulting his eardrums. ‘I'm going to get us some drinks. You can't be stealing wine from every table you happen to lean on.’

At this point, the question why he hadn’t ditched Myungjun as his best friend long ago resurfaces with renewed urgency.

………….....................

The purchased drinks don’t last long. Myungjun downs his with an astonishing speed and Dongmin follows, somehow feeling that this kind of a night is best to face at least mildly drunk, in which case he needs to catch up.

Myungjun sets his empty glass on another randomly selected table and squeals without warning. ‘Come, let’s go to the photo booth!’

He starts jumping up and down, tugging at Dongmin’s sleeve. ‘Come on, come on, it will be so much fun!’

Not seeing any way how to wriggle out of participating in another one of Kim Myungjun’s spontaneous ideas, Dongmin dutifully follows Myungjun who expertly winds his way through the dancing crowd.

They wait in the queue assembled in front of the booth, Myungjun already excited about the accessories he wants to wear.

‘I need a feather boa. And a pair of those silly glasses. What do you want, Min?’

Out of the heap of trinkets piled up on a small table, Dongmin pulls out a headband with reindeer antlers. He doesn’t particularly care. ‘This one.’

‘Aww, that’s cute, you will look pretty,’ Myungjun coos and fixes the headband into Dongmin’s hair.

‘Hey, guys, do you want to go together?’

Dongmin turns around and sees Jinwoo from Finance and one of the work experience kids, the tall one – he vaguely remembers his name is Sanha – standing at the entrance.

Jinwoo beckons, face stretched in an infectious grin. ‘Come on, there is only two of us, we need numbers to make it look better!’

Dongmin has no time to ponder the issue because Myungjun grabs his hand and pushes him forward. ‘We are coming!’

Posing in the booth is not as torturous as expected. Jinwoo has an easy-going nature and within a minute has them all in stitches; even Dongmin succumbs to the general sense of hilarity and forgets about his unease about the party.

Maybe he will be able to get through tonight unscathed.

Once outside, Dongmin doesn’t pay much attention to the pictures or to the hilarious story Jinwoo is exchanging with Myungjun, about some drunken night out two weeks ago, Sanha towering over the two of them like an overgrown beanstalk but giggling with a child-like aplomb.

He turns his back to their little group and feels himself shrinking a little because right next to the photo booth is the famous mistletoe corner.

Or infamous, in Dongmin’s case.

Despite his dread, he is forced to admit that this year, the corner looks like something transported straight from a fairy tale. A massive tree trunk – Dongmin stares at it for a moment, pondering who on earth has organised having it delivered – is the centrepiece, with thick ropes of ivy hanging off it, the dark green, glossy leaves looking like a waterfall of emeralds against the rough bark. Couple of naked branches are stretching out on top, giant arms welcoming all into its fold - the lovesick couples, the hopefuls, the drunk best friends.

Dongmin inches closer, slowly, not really wanting to attract too much attention of the crowd gathered in front of it. He keeps his eyes on the floor instead, surveying the thick clumps of ferns and some trailing plant he can't even name, with pretty violet flowers, framing a square of green carpet where eager couples pose and take pictures, before locking their lips together. Above it all, hanging off one branch, is a massive clump of mistletoe, the delicate light green leaves and white berries glistening in the light of an appalling disco ball hung right next to it – too close in Dongmin’s opinion and rather ruining the whole effect.

‘Are you waiting for your turn?’

He jumps a little, scared by the laughing voice right next to his ear and spins around.

Bin is standing in front of him, grinning widely. ‘I bet you’re just thinking whom to pick from all the eager girls who want to stand there with you?’

Dongmin turns bright red.

‘I… I don’t really…’

‘Hey, Dongmin!’

They both startle as Kwagho from IT lumbers close, his massive frame somehow threatening, even for Dongmin who has the height on his side and doesn’t get intimidated easily.

‘Are you gonna scream under the mistletoe again this year? Kwangho leers at him. ‘Come on, we need a bit of a drama tonight, it’s been too boring!’

Dongmin freezes.

It feels like one of those out-of-body moments, the way Bin’s eyes are on him, confused, the way Kwangho laughs nastily, the hush of the girls around.

The tears are suddenly there, ready to spill, and he can't - will not – give anyone the satisfaction. Not this year.

He spins around and runs.

………………………

The back alley is badly lit, the first lonely snowflakes settling on dustbins lined up against the grimy brick wall.

He wraps his arms around himself, trying in vain to keep warm in his thin cotton dress shirt.

The thick metal door screeches and he turns, hopeful but apprehensive at the same time. It will be Myungjun, he is sure about that, coming to tell him off for hiding outside in the freezing cold, without a coat and being stupid enough to let the door swing shut on him, effectively locking him outside.

‘I’m fine, Myungjun, so before you start shout-‘

‘I’m not gonna shout.’

Dongmin stands stock still.

It’s not Myungjun. It’s Bin, standing in the door, holding it carefully open.

Dongmin squeezes his eyes shut. Marvellous. The only thing making his humiliation complete is Bin finding him here, locked out and shivering, like a stray dog that has been thrown out by his master.

‘I was wondering where you’ve gone.’

‘I haven’t disappeared anywhere. I’ve come,’ he pauses, scrambling for words, for anything really that would sound at least remotely dignified, ‘to get some fresh air.’

Bin doesn’t say anything. Silently, he moves one of the empty beer crates and carefully wedges it against the door, preventing it form swinging shut.

‘You ok?’

‘I’m fine,’ Dongmin snaps curtly, turning away.

‘Do you want to come back, maybe? It’s… it’s cold and you.. you left your coat inside.’

‘It was too hot inside.’

The silence settles between is them interrupted only by the howling of wind and the gentle rustling of snow settling on the ground.

After what seems like eternity, Bin clears his throat. ‘What happened last year? You know, under the mistletoe?’

‘Please,’ Dongmin scoffs, ‘don’t pretend you don’t know. People remember shit like that. The embarrassment of the year.’

Bin’s whisper is soft like the snowflakes that are getting trapped in his hair. ‘I know you probably don’t remember but I didn’t go to the Christmas party last year. I only joined last November and it seemed… I hardly knew anybody – so I just didn’t.’

Dongmin rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah – as if that made any difference. Please, don’t tell me you didn’t hear everyone in the office talking about it afterwards.’

‘Actually,’ Bin coughs, embarrassed, ‘people DID talk – but I think it was mainly about someone – can't remember her name, she left already – giving someone else – don’t remember his name either – a blow job in the bathroom, still wearing an elf costume and all. I guessed you didn’t make the top news list, not in the Marketing department.’

Dongmin laughs a little embarrassed, although he doesn’t lift up his eyes off the ground yet.

‘So what happened last year? I’d rather you tell me, than hearing it from someone else tonight.’

Dongmin shrugs, resigned. ‘A girl from our department, Mina, came up to me, wanted to have a kiss under the mistletoe. I mean she was nice enough and although I told her it wouldn’t mean anything, she… she was ok with it. But then, she went to the bathroom while we were waiting and… Soyeon came, she is on my team, we started talking… oh god, this is so embarrassing…. You can guess what happened,’ he groans, mortified about what’s coming, what he needs to say out loud.

‘Anyway, Mina came back, saw me with Soyeon, thought she was trying to grab me for herself – which she probably was, in hindsight - and they started fighting. I just stood there, looking like an idiot.’

‘But that’s nothing too embarrassing – for you, I mean,’ Bin frowns.

‘Yeah, but then I lost it. It was late, I was drunk enough not to give a shit – I just started shouting at them to leave me the fuck alone. They must have thought I lost my mind.’

‘Oh.’

‘Anyway, afterwards, I couldn’t bear it and just ran. Went straight home. Called in sick the day after because I couldn’t face anyone.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Doesn’t matter. It’s not like I was hoping to be kissing anybody tonight.’

‘It’s just a stupid American thing – so what’s the point, right? It’s not like it’s going to bring you any luck anyway.’

‘But it’s pretty. This year, it looks really beautiful. Whoever did it, they did a really good job.’

‘I did,’ whispers Bin.

Dongmin reels back. ‘Really? Oh my god, how did you manage the tree trunk?’

‘My sister’s fiancé owns a nursery. Trees, not children,’ he giggles shyly. ‘I borrowed one for the night. The ivy was scavenged – I went to the woods yesterday - the rest I just bought at the garden centre.’

‘Wow. It looks amazing.’

Bin shuffles his feet, looking at the tip of his polished shoes and Dongmin changes the topic. Maybe Bin is allergic to praise.

‘So… Have you kissed someone yet? The girls could not leave you alone on the dance floor. Is there one that you like?’

On second thoughts, this probably wasn’t the best question to make Bin feel less flustered and Dongmin wishes the ground would just open and swallow him whole.

Bin is most likely wishing the same because his ears glow red, more than could be explained by the temperature dropping by minute and sharp, icy wind picking up.

‘I… No,’ he whispers, eyes avoiding Dongmin’s. ‘There is no girl here that I like.’

‘Well, next year then,’ Dongmin says brightly but it’s hard going.

It’s difficult to pretend that he wishes Bin to be happy with some silly girl.

‘But there is someone I _would_ like to kiss.’

Dongmin forces himself to sound cheerful even if it kills him, the knowledge that somewhere on this planet, there is a lucky – oh so lucky – girl whom Bin would like to kiss. ‘Ah, so she doesn’t work here – what a shame she can't see what you did. I bet she would die to be kissed under your mistletoe.’

‘No, it’s not… I…’

To Dongmin’s surprise, Bin suddenly looks like a schoolboy caught cheating in a test.

‘Can you stay here for a second? Please, don’t go anywhere, ok? Please?’

There is something desperate in Bin’s eyes, something that looks out of place there on a night like this – surely Bin doesn’t need to look this insecure, not him, with a constant swarm of giggling girls around him – but Dongmin doesn’t question anything, merely nods mutely and leans against the wall, indicating that he is going to stay put and wait.

The backyard falls silent, feeling strangely deserted without Bin’s presence. After a while, the dampness of the brick wall seeps through his shirt and Dongmin starts shivering again. He should have told Bin to bring him his coat.

He contemplates going back inside, now that the door is open, but in the end decides against it. He has promised.

After couple of minutes, he hears a rush of footsteps slapping against the tiles in the dark kitchen.

‘I’m back!’

Bin appears, slightly out of breath, but after seeing Dongmin, he sags with relief.

‘Christ. People were stopping me, wanting to talk – I thought you might have gone. Here’s your coat.’

Dongmin realises that Bin is handing him his own coat and blinks in confusion.

‘How… How did you know which one was mine?’

For a moment, Bin looks like he wants to hug the long black coat to his chest and flee – but after a short inner battle he hands it over and watches as Dongmin hastily pulls it on.

‘I… I sort of know because I watched you last week – when it was so cold – coming to work wearing it.

Dongmin’s face grows red at the thought of Bin watching him. Of Bin watching him.

‘I like the hood.’

With one hand, Bin reaches behind Dongmin’s back and pulls up Dongmin’s hood, big and warm and lined with fur.

Dongmin feels like an idiot. Nothing makes sense anymore. Why would Bin even be here, talking about his coat, standing way too close, being too irresistible – Dongmin can't figure out what’s going on. Bin should be inside, dancing and making out with Jisoo from Marketing or Yujin, the new HR assistant – not standing here in front of Dongmin in the freezing cold, amidst the flurry of snowflakes dancing under the single light bulb and piercing their faces.

‘What’s in your hand?’

Bin reddens even more than he already is – ears and nose pinched with cold - and slowly moves the hand he has been hiding behind his back since he has returned.

Mistletoe.

His eyes are on the floor as he clutches a small sprig of mistletoe in his hand. Dongmin notices with astonishment that the always assured Bin is suddenly shaking – almost like he himself was, only a minute ago.

‘I… I felt bad that you didn’t kiss anyone… you know…. So I thought…’

Bin turns, jumps on one of the empty beer crates and starts attaching the mistletoe to the light bulb above the door with a length of white band that Dongmin recognises from the photo booth decorations.

‘Bin,’ Dongmin gasps, ‘don’t do that! You can… electrocute yourself or… Get down, please!’

‘It’s ok.’ Bin is winding the ribbon abound the delicate stems, barely able to look at what he is doing, the glare from the bulb blinding his eyes.

After an agonising minute, he jumps down and grins. ‘All done; I have survived.’

He smiles. ‘Now you have the mistletoe here; you don’t need to go inside.’

It’s hard to stomp a heavy boot right in the middle of Bin’s eager puppy smile – but Dongmin can't help it.

‘And? I don’t want to kiss random silly girls tonight. Inside or here. Or anywhere. I don’t want to kiss any girls, Bin! Can't you just leave it?’

Bin looks like someone poured a bucket of cold water over his head. Without a word, he closes his eyes for a moment. The snow is being whipped around him by the wind, shadows of the mistletoe, blown to gargantuan proportions, are dancing on the wall.

‘I’m sorry,’ he sighs, without opening his eyes. ‘I tried to make it really beautiful. For you. So you can have a better night than last year. Because I lied. I knew what happened to you last year. I just wanted to make it better tonight.’

Dongmin is rendered speechless. The mortifying thought of Bin actually knowing the whole time is pushed aside by something else. Something bittersweet tugging at his insides.

‘You mean,’ he throws his arm in the direction of the party, ‘that the beautiful corner, the tree, the plants, everything – that you did it for me?’

‘Yeah.’ Bin doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes, a small puff of air the only proof he has spoken at all.

His face is too far away, halfway hidden by the veil of swirling snowflakes, and Dongmin doesn’t want Bin’s face to be hidden. He steps closer, so close that he can see the delicate skin of Bin’s eyelids, the tiredness hidden in the tiny lilac veins, the snowflakes getting caught in his lashes.

He longs to kiss the snow away from Bin’s eyes, from his hair, he wants to kiss Bin’s nose that’s pink from cold and rub some colour into his icy cheeks – he want so many things but he doesn’t do any of them.

‘I’m sorry, Bin,’ he only dares to whisper, somehow scared that if he speaks too loudly, the moment will be gone. ‘I really love what you did. But I don’t really want to kiss girls tonight. I don’t really…. I don’t really like kissing girls.’

It’s out there, in the open, and Dongmin starts shaking again.

This was not part of the plan. This has never been part of any plan - the sudden need to unearth what’s hidden deep, all the way down – but he can't lie. Not to Bin, Bin with closed eyes, looking as if he didn’t have any sleep last night, as if he spent the whole night creating something beautiful – and beautifully pointless – just to make Dongmin want to cry right now, in this precise moment where the futility of it all is hitting him full force.

‘We should go inside,’ he says quietly, looking at Bin’s closed eyes. ‘You said there was someone you wanted to kiss. Maybe you should just leave and go find the girl, wherever she is tonight.

‘There is someone,’ Bin breathes out, eyes still shut, ‘but I don’t want to go.’

Dongmin is getting impatient. He pulls off his hood; he needs to breathe. He needs to get out of here, get away from Bin who might not be looking at him but who feels like a giant black hole amidst the frenzy of snow, pulling him close.

‘Come on,’ he huffs, heading or the door. ‘If you’re gonna stand here like a stone, she might decide to kiss someone else soon.’

‘I never said it was a girl.’ Bin’s voice is calm, so calm it almost rings unreal. ‘It’s not a girl I want to kiss tonight.’

‘Oh.’

Dongmin pauses mid-stride and spins around. From behind the curtain of snowflakes dancing between them, Bin is watching him, eyes wide open and focused.

‘I want to kiss you.’

Dongmin realises that he is standing right there, right underneath the frail sprig of mistletoe, being frantically whipped by the wind.

‘Can I kiss you?’

His head spins.

In front of him, Bin is tripping over his own words. ‘I know you will probably say no – god, this is embarrassing – but I thought… I hoped that maybe… Please don’t hate me, we can forget about all this if you want to…’

Dongmin grabs him by the arms and pulls him close, right under the shivering clump of mistletoe above their heads.

‘Kiss me.’

Bin smiles, the purest sight Dongmin has ever seen in his life, eyes creasing into cute crescents. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah,’ he smiles back.

So Bin does kiss him and it feels hot and cold at the same time; the tip of Bin’s nose feels icy against his skin but Bin’s mouth on Dongmin’s is as if someone has lit a big, cosy fire in his belly.

Bin’s hands find their way under Dongmin’s coat and scorch his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

He copies the movement, hands sliding down Bin’s chest; the landscape of his body so unfamiliar, so new - the thrill of worlds yet to be discovered.

Dongmin feels the boldness turning his blood more molten, more pulsing, and he dares to slip his fingers under the stretchy fabric of Bin’s black turtleneck.

Bin hisses as cold fingers press into the warm skin of his back but the hiss turns into a moan as Dongmin presses against him and deepens the kiss.

The snowflakes caught on Bin’s eyelashes are melting, the trap of their heated breaths causing them die swiftly, the moisture disappearing under Dongmin’s lips.

‘I wanted to do this for so long,’ Bin sighs into his mouth.

‘How long?’

In one swift motion, Dongmin presses Bin against the wall, pushing the black fabric up, out of the way; he has to – he needs to – feel the warmth of Bin’s skin, not constrained by anything, not hidden.

Bin groans when Dongmin’s palms press against his ribcage. ‘Since you marched into our office back in February and demanded that we stopped playing ‘Fantastic Baby’ on a loop because you had a deadline coming and needed to concentrate.’

His fingers slide up Dongmin’s front and start unbuttoning his shirt. ‘You looked so hot when you were pissed off.’

Pressed against each other, skin on skin, they pause, looking into each other’s eyes.

‘And you sounded like a real moron,’ Dongmin pants. ‘I remember that. Making fun of me.’

‘I just wanted to piss you off more,’ gasps Bin. ‘You looked so beautiful when you were angry.’

A slam of a door inside cuts through the silence.

Voices in the kitchen, rushed footsteps and female giggles, make them both freeze.

Bin moves first, yanking Dongmin’s shirt together with lightning speed, pulling his coat tight and spinning them around so Dongmin’s back now presses against the wall. He pulls up Dongmin’s hood and kisses his hard on the lips. ‘Shh.’

They wait, frozen still, Bin covering Dongmin with his body. The seconds tick by.

When nobody barges into the backyard and the noises in the kitchen die down, Bin exhales in relief. ‘Phew, that was close.’

Dongmin feels hot all over. ‘Are you this ashamed to be seen with me?’

‘No,’ Bin shakes his head slowly. ‘But I didn’t really want anyone to see us here. I mean, I don’t mind – but there would be gossip tomorrow and, maybe, you would feel awkward because of that and wouldn’t want to talk to me – and then it would become even more awkward and then… And then there would be nothing after that.’

‘Maybe we should go back inside,’ he gently opens Dongmin’s coat and starts buttoning up his shirt. ‘You know, maybe we should do it properly.’

On autopilot, Dongmin pulls down Bin’s turtleneck and leans against the wall, legs shaking.

‘What do you mean, properly?’

‘Would you like to go on a date with me? I mean tomorrow, or… you know, whenever you’re free.’

Bin’s face is so eager, so innocent, that Dongmin can't believe they were trying to undress each other only a minute ago. But the question is there, in Bin’s eyes, waiting to be answered.

‘I would love to go.’

Something in Bin’s face flicks an invisible switch and he lights up more beautifully than the massive Christmas tree inside.

‘Great. Can I… I mean, we can talk tomorrow. About where would you like to go.’

Bin’s embarrassed face is so endearing, Dongmin can't help but laugh a little.

‘Are you going home already?’

‘No!’

‘Then stop planning tomorrow; we can do that later. Right now, we have stuff to do,’ he grins at the confusion written all over Bin’s features.

‘What do you mean?’

Dongmin takes Bin’s hand and smirks. ‘You said you didn’t want people gossiping about us tomorrow. But I think we should give them something to gossip about, at least a little.’

He tugs Bin towards the door.

‘Where are we going?’

‘To kiss under the mistletoe.’

Bin stares at him for a second, then bursts out laughing and pulls Dongmin inside, kicking the beer crate away.

The door swings shut.

Outside, in the falling snow, the little sprig of mistletoe keeps shaking in the wind above the empty backyard.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the festive fluff - merry Christmas everyone!


End file.
